


Kismet

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Literature & Mythology, Archaeology, First Time, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Parseltongue, Romance, Slash, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:56:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A handsome young Egyptologist hires the best curse breaker in the business. Both get rather more than they bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros. Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-profit, non-infringement entertainment.
> 
> Archiving: Absolutely nowhere please, not even in translated form.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written in January 2007. It's part explicit bodice ripper, part screwball comedy.

The merciless Egyptian sun reflected off a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , held in the tanned hands of a man in his mid-twenties. He pointed to the photo on the front page, next to the feature article about the infamous curse on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - a curse finally broken after decades of interfering with the schooling of young wizards and witches.

"I want _him_ ," he said with the air of someone who was used to being obeyed. Handing the paper to an aghast looking redhead, he added ominously, "And you know better than to fail me, I think."

* * *

"I'm not going." Harry shuffled some paperwork back and forth on his desk to keep his irritation in check. "And that's all there is to it."

Bill Weasley cringed. "Look, Harry, I know the man's reputation isn't the best--"

Harry laughed out loud. "Bill, the last five curse breakers you sent to him came back like gibbering idiots. This Lord… Whatever is a complete and utter prick. He thinks the whole fricking world is there to do his bidding. And I'm only quoting what _you_ yourself have told me countless times, I might add."

Bill cringed, rubbing his neck. "I might have mentioned something like it once."

"Once a day." Harry snickered. "Once an hour on monthly review days."

"But Harry, you're not like any other curse breaker." Bill sat down in front of Harry's desk, leaning forward with a rather frantic air. "You're unstumpable. You're the best!"

Harry blinked at him in disbelief. "Since when do you flatter, Bill Weasley? Bloody hell, are you that desperate?"

Bill leaned back and sighed. "You could say that."

Narrowing his eyes, Harry asked, "Why?"

"Why what?" Bill shifted uncomfortably.

"Why are you practically begging me to go and break the aristocratic prat's no doubt well-deserved curse? The very same prat who, I quote _you're not planning on humouring ever again by wasting the skills of your curse breakers_. Unquote."

Deciding honesty was the only option when Harry was being stubborn, Bill admitted, "Harry, if I can't get you to go, my job is no more."

Harry's eyes darkened with fury. " _What?_ "

"Lord Vol-de-Mort's been pulling strings. And believe me, the man has access to more strings than a chamber orchestra."

Harry started huffing air out his nostrils in a disturbingly dragon-like fashion. "Why, that fucking--"

"Harry, come on." Bill tried to smile. "Don't worry about me. If you really can't do it, I'll get by."

Snorting in disbelief, Harry rose. "Yeah right. I'm going to stand by and watch you lose your job. Where is the bastard right now? He wants me, he's going to get me." A calculating smirk appeared around his lips. "Though he might end up wishing he hadn't."

"He's at Saqqara. What are you planning?" Bill asked, worried.

Harry smiled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to jeopardize your job. I'll go, and I'll do _my_ job, and you'll have done your bit." He grinned evilly. "But I'm not going to bend over backwards for him, just because he's used to it."

"Harry, watch yourself. There's something… weird about him."

"Clearly," Harry said, already tidying his desk and locking important papers away. "Or we wouldn't have half a dozen little Renfields returning from Egypt."

Bill frowned, unfamiliar with the muggle literary reference. "I feel really bad about this."

"Don't." Harry threw on his coat. "Honestly. I've always wanted to see Egypt. This might actually be fun."

Bill didn't like the look on Harry's face at all, but there was nothing he could do. He was just glad he wouldn't be around to witness the inevitable explosion when Harry and Lord Vol-de-Mort came together. He could imagine it being rather like throwing dynamite into a roaring blaze. "Here are the apparition instructions," he muttered, handing Harry a folded up parchment.

Harry nodded and pocketed them. "I'll be back in no time, Bill. With His Lordship eating out of my hands."

"If he doesn't bite them off first," Bill cautioned.

Harry laughed. "I have teeth of my own. See you soon, Bill." With that, he apparated to his London flat to pack.

* * *

When Harry apparated into the middle of the dig at Wizarding Saqqara, there was no need to enquire about the whereabouts of his new client - shouts of 'Imbecile!' and 'Stop lazing about on that sarcophagus!' coming from a tunnel dug into the bowels of a small pyramid led the way.

Harry descended the brittle steps, following the sound of the smooth but unpleasantly superior voice. "Hello?" he called out halfway down.

"Who on earth is that?" the voice bellowed.

Harry lost his footing and slipped the rest of the way. Unfortunately, on his arse. When he struggled to his feet in a cloud of sand at the base of the narrow, dusty chute, he found himself staring up into the smug face of what could only be Lord Vol-de-Mort.

"Merlin, you're Potter, aren't you?" the man said, staring at him but making no move to help Harry to his feet.

Harry, taking a moment to recover from the visual shock - he was going to hex Bill for forgetting to mention how irritatingly handsome the bastard was - sneered up at him. "No need to ask who you are. I can tell by the personality."

Lord Vol-de-Mort's dark eyes narrowed. He flicked a lock of black hair from his forehead and curled his full lips in distaste "Just who do you think _you_ are?"

"Back to that, are we?" Harry struggled to his feet, then turned left to right, dusting sand off his backside as he went. He missed the appraising eyes moving from his face down to said backside and lingering there rather too long. "You know who I am. You _ordered_ me here, if you recall."

"I don't remember asking for a rude plebeian. I was led to believe you were an accomplished curse breaker."

Harry snorted. "Well, you got both in one. Afternoon, Vol-de-Mort." He opted against holding out his hand in greeting, remembering Bill's parting words about teeth.

"You may address me as 'My Lord'. When you get back outside, ask for Faruq - he'll show you to your tent." The insufferable man turned on his boot heels and strutted away, back to supervising his workers' attempts to open a fairly insignificant looking sarcophagus.

Harry was left standing there with his jaw on his chest, his eyes wide in disbelief, and his face rather flushed. He positively refused to acknowledge that the sight of His Lordship strutting away was anything to get hot and bothered about - that could entirely be blamed on the climate. Not to mention the fact that he was furious.

* * *

Harry managed to find Faruq easily enough. The Arab - a middle-aged, well spoken man wearing a constant, knowing smile - was the local overseer of the dig. It was plain that he had a far more agreeable temperament than Harry's new client, even during the short time it took him to show Harry to his tent and tell him where to find water and food, and how to go about getting his laundry seen to.

When Harry asked Faruq about his predecessors, the man smiled enigmatically. "His Lordship is not an easy man."

Harry grinned. "I've noticed. Where does Lord Vol-de-Mort stay?"

Faruq lifted the muslin covering the tent entrance and pointed to another tent right across from Harry's. "There, sir."

Surprised that the tent was no grander than his own, but immediately telling himself it probably made full use of wizard space inside, Harry nodded and thanked Faruq.

"Mr Potter, His Lordship's name is Riddle. Vol-de-Mort... it is a nickname of sorts." The man smirked. "Some of his colleagues use it, but I do not believe that he is fond of it."

"Oh. Right." Harry nodded. "Thanks. And call me Harry." When Faruq smiled and made to leave, Harry held him back and asked, "Does he ever relax? You know, have fun? Do something nice?"

Faruq assessed Harry from head to foot until the young curse breaker grew uncomfortable, then he chuckled and gave a little bow. "Insha'allah."

"What does _that_ mean?" Harry asked, but Faruq simply kept smiling and left without explanation.

* * *

It turned out that the curse Harry had been commissioned to neutralise had been placed on a pyramid outwardly no more imposing than the one where he had first encountered His Lordship. Except that it was the burial site of an ancient priest and thought to hold all manner of astonishing secrets to help His Lordship in his research - the subject of which he revealed to no one. The priest, like all Ancient Egyptian priests, had been a wizard, and an especially powerful one if Riddle was to be believed. Hence, his pyramid was invisible to muggles.

Harry realized with astonishment that this obviously meant everyone at the dig was a wizard, and he relaxed somewhat about making himself more comfortable by using magic.

One luxury he could easily have conjured up but chose not to, for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely, was the installation of bathing facilities inside his tent. Instead, he took Faruq up on using the curtained off area beside Riddle's tent, along with His Lordship and Faruq himself. The square space held an ample tub and a wizard shower which functioned using conjured water, and as the three men using it didn't tend to rise or retire at the same time, they usually didn't get in each other's way.

At least, not until Harry's fourth evening there, when he lay immersed in cool water, attempting to shake off the oppressive dry heat of the day.

The wind had picked up, and the tent's muslin waved in the breeze gently while the colourful oil lamps spread a diffuse light and threw reflections on every surface. Outside, a little distance away, the men could be heard laughing and playing music - the kind of music Harry had never heard before, but it was rhythmic and haunting, and quite beautiful. The desert was so still at night, even the revelries hardly seemed to disrupt the silence, and the blue, red and gold glass of the lamps with flames flickering behind them added a meditative air to the tent.

Harry was just beginning to relax, his head resting on the rim of the tub and his legs stretched out as far as they could be, when Lord Riddle strolled in with a towel over his arm.

Harry glowered at him, pulling his knees closer to his body. "This room is clearly occupied."

His Lordship smirked. "Doubly so now." He placed the towel on a small stool. "I came for a shower, so I shan't ask you to leave, Potter."

"Pardon me?" Harry sputtered.

"As I said - you can stay where you are. Unless you're done. Just ignore me."

"Right." Ignore him. Harry could do that. Surely he could do that. If he just lay back and closed his eyes and pretended the prat wasn't there...

The soft rustling of clothes being stripped off made Harry clench his teeth. It wasn't so much the sound, but an insatiable curiosity as to what the man might look like without those clothes, that interfered with his attempts to ignore him. But he knew if he was caught looking, the smug bastard would never let him live it down, so he squinted through half-closed eyelids, hoping the sparse illumination would make it impossible to tell his eyes were even slightly open. Then again, a moment later, they were open wide.

Riddle had shrugged off his white shirt and dropped it to the ground, the smooth, lean muscles of his back and arms working as he undid his trousers and slowly pushed them over his slim hips.

Harry didn't know whether he'd been wearing nothing underneath, or whether he'd pushed his underwear down along with his trousers. Either way, the warm light of the tent reflected off the smooth, pale globes of the man's buttocks in a ridiculously flattering way, leaving the space between dipped in enticing shadow. He suppressed a groan when Riddle bent over, pushed the trousers down long, slender legs, then stepped out of them. He didn't know whether to be grateful for, or curse, the dim lighting which teased him with mere glimpses of the shadowed space between Riddle's thighs.

Riddle stepped under the levitating showerhead and started the shower.

Harry, assuming the man would, for modesty's sake, remain facing away from him, was shocked to find Riddle turning fully towards him, and quickly went back to pretending to have his eyes closed. Though not for long. Insatiable... curiosity - yes, that's what it was - got the better of him yet again, and he peered through half-closed lids. Then prayed that his whimper was covered up by the sound of the shower.

Riddle was clearly entirely unconcerned with putting himself on display like that, running soapy hands through his black hair before using the chunky, aromatic bar of soap to lather himself up slowly and deliberately, rinsing off as he went.

Harry was quite unaware that his eyes were open wide and that his mouth had dropped open as well. He watched rivulets of ivory foam trailing down smooth skin and sleek muscles, caressing fragile-looking collar bones and hard nipples on the way, lingering in and then moving on from the shadowed dip of Riddle's navel, following the trail of dark hair leading across a flat expanse of skin before getting lost in a nest of black curls surrounding a very impressive... erection.

Were Harry not in quite a state himself by that point, he might have laughed at the thought of Riddle getting turned on by lathering up his own - admittedly breathtaking - body. As it was, he merely stared, transfixed, at the soapy hand slowly closing around the shaft. His eyes snapped up to Riddle's face when he heard the man give a faint groan, and he was shocked to find himself looking straight into a pair of eyes that had gone from grey to pitch-black.

Riddle held Harry's gaze. Indeed, as much as Harry wished he could look down again at the suddenly relatively harmless seeming display of the man bringing himself off a few feet away from him, he found he couldn't tear himself away from that feverish, penetrating gaze. He swallowed hard, then licked his lips, and Riddle's brows twitched ever so slightly, his eyes fluttering half closed before he forced them open again to stay moored in Harry's. His strokes sped up, and he gave a long, low moan of pleasure, his lips parted slightly.

Harry moaned in sympathy, quite unawares, and when he managed to let his eyes drop back to Riddle's groin at last, it was impossible to tell whether the white streaks flowing down his legs were soap or… something else. He suddenly wanted to flee, but knew if he stood now, the man would have him against the wall, so to speak. Instead, he reached for a small bottle of bath oil, frantically emptied it into the tub, and made swishing circles with his hands in hopes of creating foam. This was doomed, of course, as it was natural, scented oil rather than some hideous commercial bath foam.

Meanwhile, Riddle had finished showering, and Harry was still desperately attempting to cover any evidence of his enjoyment of the performance, when he suddenly looked up. Frankincense and amber drifted into his nose, and the man was standing next to the tub with his towel wrapped low around his hips. Low enough to expose the very highest points of his hipbones and the damp black hair trailing delicately behind the pale cotton.

"You look flushed, Mr Potter," Riddle purred. He bent low over Harry, who tried hard not to groan at the combined assault on his nose, eyes and ears. "It's not good to bathe too hot in these temperatures."

"Err," Harry muttered, then gargled something incomprehensible when Riddle dipped a slender hand into the water as if to check its warmth. Harry closed his eyes in mortification - the water was as close to cold as to make no difference. He shifted uncomfortably, hissing when the movement caused fingertips to brush lightly against the tip of his hard cock under the water, then disappeared. When he looked up again, Riddle was smirking, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

He stood up straight, unperturbed by Harry's furious glare. "Nothing to worry about there then. Though it's not good to go to sleep _tense_ either, you know." He winked, wished Harry a cheerful, "Goodnight," and was gone.

* * *

Harry was determined that Riddle's triumph over his libido was not going to last. He was going to teach the man a lesson he would not soon forget. It became something of a competition between them - one in which Riddle seemed to come out on top every time, to Harry's great irritation.

Riddle spoke Arabic to the men with a flair and ease Harry envied, as he was entirely incapable of even asking for a glass of water in the language himself. It seemed to him that Riddle gloated about his talent, though that might have been because Harry found himself tongue-tied and with a dry throat whenever he heard the silky voice caressing those guttural, primal sounding words.

It seemed unlikely Harry would best the man at anything. At least until the day a large cobra slithered from a newly dug tunnel under one of the pyramids.

The first men who spotted it were rushing to and fro excitedly, and Harry assumed they were attempting to decide on the safest way to dispose of it. So he stepped forward and simply talked to it in Parseltongue, convincing it to make its habitat elsewhere.

The snake relented and with a dip of the head, it slithered past a large rock and out of sight.

There were hushed whispers and awed looks directed at the young curse breaker, and then someone stepped forward and squeezed his arm, accompanied by a beaming smile and a barrage of Arabic.

Harry accepted the praise with a polite smile, wondering why Faruq stood in the distance, smirking knowingly. Then his face fell, because around the rock came Riddle, the snake wrapped around his arm and neck, chatting to him pleasantly - he was responding in kind. In Parseltongue.

He glowered at Riddle and his pet - the man had the audacity to request that the snake stay near camp, so long as it would not hurt anyone.

"He tellsss me you too ssspeak hisss language, Mr Potter?" Riddle hissed at him.

"Yesss, I do." Harry knew he was sulking, and felt mocked by the way the snake flicked his tongue at him. "I thought I wasss the only one."

Riddle laughed softly, and the sound would have been rather pleasant, were it not so mocking. "Parssseltongue isss a rare talent in most of our world, but not so in Egypt. I trussst you don't mind sharing the ssspotlight with me?"

Harry sneered at him, but allowed the snake to bump its head against his arm. Then he realized everyone was staring at them, smiling, and there was much excited whispering going on. "What'sss that all about?" he asked.

Riddle shrugged, letting the snake slither down his leg and into the sand, pretending not to notice the way Harry watched its progress along his sinewy muscles. "Because Parseltongue was first spoken here thousands of years ago by the most favoured of the kings and priests, it is thought that those able to speak it are blessed by the gods," he said softly, in English.

"And you'd be inclined to agree with that for yourself, wouldn't you?" Harry mocked.

Riddle raised a brow in surprise. "Who am I to argue with my own semi-divinity?"

Harry's jaw dropped at such an abundance of arrogance. It took him a moment to realize the corners of Riddle's mouth were twitching ever so slightly. "You're quite a piece of work," he said, and while he had meant for it to come out reproachful, he was uncomfortably aware it sounded almost affectionate.

"You're not so bad yourself, Mr Potter." Riddle leaned in close enough for Harry to smell the honeylike scent of the sun protection Riddle used, and underneath that, the faintest hint of clean sweat. "That pout you're currently sporting is especially… divine." He drew back and winked at Harry, before walking away, the cobra slithering after him like an obedient pet dog. "Best get back to work, Mr Potter," Riddle called out.

And Harry would have known he'd been made a fool of once again, even without the good-natured laughter of the men standing in a wide circle around him.

* * *

To say things were a little tense between Harry and his client would be something of an understatement.

Harry had been at Saqqara for over a week, and he was still no closer to identifying and neutralising the curse on the priest's burial chamber. He decided that whoever had placed it was a genius and welcome to his job any day.

Riddle, annoyingly, had taken to hovering over him all day long, and his new favourite pastime was to pace back and forth behind Harry while complaining. "You're supposed to be an expert at this!" he said for the third time that day.

Harry, on his knees in front of the man and glaring up at him, said through clenched teeth. "Unfortunately, so were the priests who placed these curses in the first place. They're not meant to be _easy_ to remove, Riddle."

"My Lord," came the expected correction.

"That's okay. Potter will do." Snickering, Harry returned to his work, passing his wand over the chamber seal slowly and methodically while murmuring spells and incantations.

"I don't suppose you're going to start showing me due respect any time soon?" Riddle asked in a curiously neutral voice.

Harry glanced up at him over his shoulder. "If you're waiting for me to kiss your--" He realized that he was in the perfect position to do so if only the man would turn around. Not that he had any problem with his front side - he rather wished it was less appealing. It was the man's attitude that annoyed him. Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and averting his eyes, he muttered, "You'll be waiting a long time."

Riddle smirked down at the back of Harry's head, not having missed the gesture. "I wonder," he murmured silkily.

The changed tone of voice was enough to make Harry's wand slip from suddenly damp fingers, and he scowled up, only to find that the man had shifted to lean against the wall, one foot tucked behind the other, arms crossed over his chest - the cream-coloured linen of his trousers was stretched tight over slim hips, and his stance did nothing to disguise the fact that he was really rather well endowed.

Not that Harry had any kind of trouble with his memory. His eyes widened, and he quickly averted them. "Stop breathing down my neck, if you want me to get this done."

"I'd hardly call supervising your progress breathing down your neck." Suddenly, there was a shifting of air and the crunch of sand from a knee resting in it, and before Harry quite knew what was happening, he felt the heat of another body against his back, accompanied by the sweet-musky scent he'd begun to associate with Riddle. He closed his eyes and gulped as a warm hand descended on his shoulder. Riddle murmured into his ear, "This, on the other hand..." He blew soft, pleasantly warms puffs of breath over Harry's ear, then over the nape of his neck.

Harry shivered, clenching his teeth. A long finger lifted his sweaty T-Shirt back from his neck ever so slightly, and an exhalation of breath sounding disturbingly close to a moan was aimed into the hot, damp space between cotton and skin. Harry swayed on his knees. "Fuck," he muttered, before he could stop himself.

Mocking laughter trickled over his skin and shivered down his spine. "Not the kind of curse you're here for, Mr Potter, but we shall see..."

And with that, the warm lips, the hand, and the body heat were gone, as the man rose to his feet with another displacement of air and left without another word.

Harry rubbed his damp palms over his thighs. "Fucking gorgeous fucking bastard, I'll give you curses!" he muttered, groaning in discomfort when he tried to stand up. His legs were asleep from kneeling for so long, and all his blood had rushed to his lap, where his tight jeans were threatening to crush his uncomfortable erection.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Emerging from his tent the next morning, and dressed entirely in white from his mostly unbuttoned shirt to his long, extra loose, pants and open sandals, Harry found himself face to face with Riddle, who must have been waiting for him right there.

Riddle laughed at his scowl and greeted him with an unexpectedly pleasant, "Good morning, Mr Potter."

Harry narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "If you say so."

"I do." Riddle looked him up and down with a smirk. "Much better. Found your usual get-up a bit restrictive, did you?" He had the audacity to grip a bunch of loose white cotton at Harry's hip and tug, laughing when Harry slapped his hand away. "How do you feel about a bit of a break today?"

"A break." Harry looked around with an exaggerated look of confusion. "Clearly, you're some kind of impostor, because the sour bastard who hired me doesn't believe in breaks."

An elegant brow rose mockingly. "The sour bastard who hired you does whatever he pleases, whenever he pleases." He smirked in a positively indecent way and breathed, "With whomever he pleases."

Harry scoffed and turned away to hide the flush he felt creeping up over his cheeks. "I'm busy. I have work to get on with, as you're always happy to remind me." He'd have ignored the no doubt put upon sigh, but his client's next words were harder to ignore.

"So you'd rather not see Giza and the ancient wizarding temple I recently unearthed there?"

Grumbling under his breath, Harry turned back to look at Riddle. "Could be useful research, I guess."

"No doubt." Riddle smiled and nodded towards the centre of the camp. "Our camels are waiting over there."

"We're not apparating?" Harry asked, astonished. When he glanced at the beasts, he couldn't help notice that there were fully loaded saddlebags hanging off them. "You're awfully bloody sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I usually get my way." Riddle had the audacity to wink before strutting off towards the camels. "Coming, Potter?"

Harry scowled, but trotted along behind him.

* * *

Hours later, or so it seemed to Harry, he was still riding alongside his client, shifting in his seat. "How much further?" he asked, attempting to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"Getting sore?" Riddle asked amiably, bouncing elegantly along on his camel which, Harry was sure, had built-in suspension entirely lacking on the beast he had been provided with.

"No. Just curious," he lied.

His companion smirked, called out, "Hat! Hat!" and took off at break-neck speed on his cushioned and custom-bred camel, effectively forcing Harry to keep up if he didn't want to get lost.

When they reached Gaza a short time later, Riddle's camel lowered itself to the ground, and he hopped off its back with ease, while Harry struggled not to pitch head first into the sand when the front legs folded under.

A helpful hand was stretched out towards him, but he ignored it manfully in favour of stumbling over his own feet, nearly falling on his arse, and wincing when the backs of his thighs protested the sudden change of position.

Riddle gave him a mockingly worried glance. "Not used to riding, Potter?"

"Camels are a tad thin on the ground in London," Harry grumbled. "And I prefer horses myself."

Riddle's eyes sparkled. "Don't worry. By the time you leave here, you'll have learned to love a good, hard ride." His voice had lowered with each word, with the last three coming out as little more than a growl.

Which went straight to Harry's groin. Nevertheless, he walked up close to Riddle, smirking at the expectant expression on the man's face, and said, in a tone of voice imitating Riddle's, "Did I say anything about _not_ loving a good, hard ride?" With that, he stalked away towards the base of the nearest of the pyramids, not minding at all that he missed the sight of Riddle's jaw dropping. He knew the man just well enough to guess.

Harry stood and stared up the massive structure in awe, wondering whether they were allowed to climb it, when Riddle caught up and suggested they save themselves the trouble by apparating.

"No need to wear ourselves out, is there?" Riddle reasoned, and Harry wasn't about to put up an argument. Laughing when Harry refused his offer to side-along apparate them, Riddle went first.

Moments later, both men stood on the highest point of the Great Pyramid of Khufu.

"I thought this was the tallest of the pyramids? That one over there looks bigger," Harry wondered out loud, pointing.

Riddle smiled. "It's an illusion. The Pyramid of Khafre is built on higher ground, but this is the oldest, and largest, of the pyramids here."

Nodding, Harry looked around. "The city reaches very close."

"Those outskirts are muggle," Riddle said with some disdain. "There's no need to have them spoil our view." With a single wide hand movement and a spell Harry had never heard, the buildings nearly surrounding the pyramid complex shimmered out of existence as if they had never been more than a mirage.

Harry gasped, both in awe at the casual display of such powerful wandless magic as at the new, or rather very old, view presented to him.

Riddle, well aware of the effect of his gesture, said, "This is how it should still look. Giza never should have sprawled out this far. Awe-inspiring, isn't it?" he asked in a hushed whisper, smiling at Harry's wide-eyed amazement.

Harry nodded. "Beautiful." He shielded his eyes from both the sun and the intense gaze of the man beside him to take in the entire complex, including the Sphinx lazily stretched out in the sun, and then the shimmering, golden ocean of sand reaching as far as the eye could see, and far beyond that. It was mesmerising. Harry felt as if he could reach up and touch the clear blue sky. He felt he was standing alone on top of the world.

Well, almost alone. When Riddle's sudden proximity behind him tore him out of his reverie, he nearly lost his footing. A long arm wrapped around his waist. "Careful, Potter."

"I'm fine," Harry said, proud of his voice sounding almost normal.

"I'm sure you are," Riddle agreed amiably. "But did you know that every year, half a dozen tourists die by falling off pyramids and monuments in Egypt?" His arm tightened around Harry's middle, his palm a much too pleasant weight against his flat stomach. "Admittedly, they shouldn't be climbing all over them in the first place, not having been granted special permission, unlike myself. And as your employer, I do feel responsible for your safety."

Harry tried to ignore the heat of Riddle's skin through the thin layer of white cotton. "I wouldn't have stumbled if it weren't for you."

"Oh? Do I unsettle you so?" Riddle murmured, his chin brushing the hair at the back of Harry's head and his breath stirring it.

"I was deep in thought," Harry said through clenched teeth, working at not breathing harder than normal. "You startled me."

"Did I? I'm terribly sorry." Riddle didn't sound at all sorry, and his hand remained where it was, except that he hooked his thumb behind one of Harry's shirt buttons.

"You can let go now," Harry said sternly. Silently, he added, 'Before I embarrass myself.'

"Yes, I probably could." Riddle nuzzled against Harry's dishevelled black hair, then breathed close to his ear, "But where would be the fun in that?" He inhaled deeply. "What were you in such deep thought about, Mr Potter? Or may I call you Harry?"

Harry ignored that last bit. "I was thinking that to stand here is like being on top of the world."

"Higher than any human being of the ancient world," Riddle murmured thoughtfully. "Closer to heaven. To eternal life. To sheer and utter bliss." His fingertips slipped almost accidentally between two buttons, barely grazing Harry's bare flesh underneath the light cotton.

Harry chose not to answer, for fear of what croaked gobbledigook might come out of his mouth. His slight nod caused Riddle's silky hair to brush the rim of his ear, and he closed his eyes and bit his lip.

"That's why I'm here," Riddle whispered into Harry's ear. "That's why I've been given that rather exulted and somewhat silly name I'm glad you've chosen not to use."

Harry, surprised at the sudden glimpse into Riddle's secretive research, looked back over his shoulder, effectively turning into the arm around him. "What?" he muttered.

"Vol-de-Mort. Flight from death." Riddle laughed, and his warm breath washed over Harry's cheek pleasantly while his dark eyes looked down at him. "It was given to me by some French archaeology colleagues who know I'm working on a book about ancient Egyptian burial rituals, specifically the meaning of the placement of the burial chambers within the pyramid."

"Oh," Harry said.

Riddle's thumb rubbed up and down a section of Harry's spine while his warm palm lay flat against his back. "Did you know that there's always a hollow shaft leading diagonally towards the top of the pyramid from the topmost chamber?" he asked. When Harry simply stared at him, breathing hard, he smiled. "It faces the section of space between the circumpolar stars. The ancient Egyptians believed that part of the nightsky to be the location of heaven, because it never moved." The hand slid lower, lightly caressing the top of Harry's buttocks and almost, but not quite, pressing inwards when briefly tracing the top few inches of the seam. "The idea was to allow the departing soul a direct route to the afterlife."

Harry, breathless and lost in dark grey eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, murmured, "Really?" He wondered if Riddle was aware that no matter how handsome he might be even in all his sneering superiority, he was utterly breathtaking when overflowing with such honest passion for his subject.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" The man's voice was like silk, his mouth much too close to Harry's.

"Uh huh." Harry blinked, licking his suddenly too dry lips.

Riddle tilted his head a little as he assessed him intently. "Do you think it's wrong, Harry, to try and get at secrets protected so fiercely as to need a curse?"

"I... haven't given it any thought," Harry muttered, shivering at the way Riddle breathed his name.

"Why don't we dine together tonight and discuss it?" Grey eyes moved over Harry's face, cataloguing his features as if he was a map to a valued treasure. "I'd like to know your opinion. I want you to think about the magnitude of the discoveries that have been made here in Egypt for thousands of years. How much more in touch with magic even the muggles of ancient Egypt were than some wizards today."

Trembling, and knowing Riddle couldn't fail but notice, Harry shook his head, but the word that came out of his mouth was, "Yes."

"Splendid." Riddle released him so suddenly, Harry stumbled backwards, flailing. But before he managed to tumble to his death, he was back in Riddle's arms, and for one breathless moment, they looked deep into each other's eyes, panting hard. And then, with a low growl, Riddle crushed him close and kissed him.

Harry considered struggling for a split-second, but aside from fear of looking like the abducted young heiress fending off the sheik in a Barbara Cartland novel, he could think of no good reason; and then, he couldn't think at all. His mouth was being ravished utterly, but for all the passion unleashed upon him, Riddle's plush lips melted against Harry's with surprising care, even tenderness. Harry did nothing to resist, and when Riddle opened his mouth slightly, and Harry immitated him, a tongue slipped smoothly into Harry's mouth.

Harry gripped onto Riddle's shoulders for balance. He was vaguely aware he was being kissed breathless on the highest point of the last wonder of the ancient world and might die a very unique death at any moment. He couldn't seem to care, allowing his mouth to be invaded as if it held all the secrets to Riddle's research, his tongue returning heartstopping caresses until it was coaxed to follow into Riddle's mouth. He clung to the man, the kiss growing ever more fierce and deep, until one of them moaned and the other replied with a grunt of sheer need.

Harry felt his shirt bunched up in the small of his back as hands struggled to pull it from his waistband, and then those hands were on his bare back, sliding up under the smooth cotton, and he moaned helplessly. Riddle's mouth moved from his lips to his cheek, then down the side of his neck, while his hands trailed up Harry's spinal column to rest between his shoulder blades, causing him to shiver despite the heat.

Harry groaned, blinking up at the blue sky which seemed to spin above him, his fingers tangling in Riddle's smooth black hair and pulling his head up again for another kiss - even longer and more desperate than the first.

When they eventually pulled apart, dizzy and breathing heavily, Riddle cupped Harry's face. While they regained their breaths, he continued to place light kisses randomly over Harry's face, until at last, he looked at him with a soft, slightly overwhelmed, smile. "We had better leave here. I'm sorely tempted to do something to you that would be very dangerous in this location."

Harry blushed. "Um... yes."

"Do you want to see my temple now?"

Harry snickered, feeling ridiculously giddy and content. "I assume that's not a colourful metaphor."

Riddle laughed out loud, and suddenly, he looked so relaxed and happy, he barely seemed the same man who had greeted Harry so rudely on his arrival. The change played merry hell with Harry's equilibrium.

* * *

Half an hour later, Harry still had not fully regained it, walking as he was through the ruins of an ancient wizarding temple, his hand in Riddle's, his fingers continually caressed by a wayward thumb. He was listening to enthusiastic explanations of the rituals once performed there and told of the gods worshipped in Ancient Egypt.

"I feel oddly connected to Set," Riddle said, tracing a carving of an animal-headed god in the east wall of the temple with his index finger.

Harry looked at the strange figure, half man and half bizarre animal, with a long snout and pricked, blunt-ended ears. "What kind of animal is that?"

"No one is entirely certain. It may be an extinct creature, or it may have been entirely made up to portray a god who stood for chaos and trouble." Warming to the subject, Riddle smiled. "The ancient Egyptians knew there could be no order without chaos, and he was worshipped along with the other gods until he fell out with Horus and killed Osiris. After that, he was vilified. But whatever may be said against him, he was not without finer feelings. He was deeply enamoured of his Libyan equal - the god Ash. They are said to reign over the desert and the winds together."

Harry met Riddle's eyes, responding to the smile there with one of his own. "I suppose there must have been more to him than met the eye."

Riddle looked at him seriously then, raising his hand to brush his knuckles over Harry's cheekbone. "Or perhaps, Ash was simply the only one who could bring out his gentler side."

Harry lowered his eyes, still smiling. The tips of his lashes flickered over the retreating knuckles. "Perhaps."

"Let's go home, Harry," Riddle murmured urgently, his voice rough and husky. "It's getting late. And I'm... hungry."

When Harry met the dark, intense gaze, he did not doubt the truth of that statement. And he wasn't fool enough to pretend he didn't feel the same way.


	3. Chapter 3

Riddle's accommodations were no larger on the inside than the outside, but when Harry entered his tent after a refreshing shower, wearing a loose tunic and pants in blue silk, which he had found on his own bed, he certainly wasn't disappointed. Mountains of cushions in rich, deep colours were strewn across the floor. The lighting was sparse but romantic, small flames in glass jars providing just enough illumination to find one's way around.

"Do you approve?"

Harry caught his host's eyes and had to make an effort to still his heartbeat. Riddle had been watching him from a low stool on the opposite side of the tent; his tanned skin looked like gold set off by an outfit similar to Harry's, but in a soft maroon. "Of the setting?" Harry asked with a smile. "Or of you?"

"Both." Riddle smiled and approached him with a glass in his outstretched hand. "Would you care for some iced tea?"

"Thank you," Harry said, taking the drink. "Did you leave this for me to wear?" he asked, looking down at himself.

"You don't mind indulging me in my little fantasy, do you?" Riddle asked enigmatically. When Harry tilted his head in question, he laughed softly. "I'm Set, you see - the desert in chaos." He indicated his maroon outfit. "And I rather fancy you're my Ash - the guardian of the oases."

He seemed uncharacteristically concerned about his own boldness, which endeared him all the more to Harry, who smiled. "I'm refreshing then?"

"You certainly are," Riddle said without hesitation, looking deep into Harry's eyes. "You're the first person to stand up to me. The only one, in fact. And yet, I feel as if I can trust you completely." He took Harry's free hand. "You're fearless, and you're... so alive."

It might have been an odd thing to say, but Harry squeezed the hand holding his and smiled, understanding entirely. "What does Ash look like?"

"He's sometimes represented with the head of a snake, or a lion - both of which fit you rather well." Riddle smiled. "Mind you, I much prefer _your_ head." He cupped Harry's chin and raised it, letting his eyes roam his face. "Hm..." he murmured appreciatively.

Harry blushed under the scrutiny, glad when he was released with a chuckle and led to the low table in the centre of the rug-covered floor. The moment they were both seated, Riddle waved his hand across the table and a variety of local delicacies, most of which were no longer unfamiliar to Harry, appeared before them. He started with those, but sampled everything, while Riddle continued to tell him more about his research, patiently answering Harry's many questions. Harry slowly relaxed as the conversation went on, as much as he possibly could in the presence of a man who made him want to crawl across the table, delicious food be damned, and ravish him right there.

"Harry? Harry, are you listening?" Riddle asked, tilting his head and smirking.

Harry blinked. "I... yeah, I was. Sorry, my Lord."

Riddle beamed. "You actually said it. Merlin! And just when I was about to ask you to call me by my first name."

Harry laughed. "After all that effort, you deserve to have me say it at least once."

"It would make me happier to hear you call me Tom." The request was soft and hopeful.

Chewing his bottom lip when he met the intense look directed at him, Harry nodded. "I think I'll find that a lot easier to get my tongue around. Tom."

"Harry," Tom leaned forward, about to say something, when his eyes widened. "You want to be careful with that," he cautioned, pointing to a small dish into which Harry was dipping his falafel. "That sauce is extremely spicy."

"I like spicy food." Harry ignored the amused smirk and scooped up a generous glob of the red sauce, inserting it into his mouth on the end of his falafel. A moment later, he felt his eyes bulge in their sockets and his tongue seemed to become welded to the roof of his mouth.

Tom leapt to Harry's side, reaching for the carafe of iced tea and resting his hand against the back of Harry's head. "Drink this, quickly. Keep it in your mouth, don't swallow it right away."

Harry gulped down the first gush of water forced through his lips, but managed to hold back on the second one, letting it fill his mouth with soothing cool while staring at Tom's face.

"I know what you're thinking, but I won't mock you for not listening to me." Tom was smiling.

Harry relaxed minutely, and swallowed. He covered the fine boned hand on the carafe with his own to speed up delivery of the next dose. He didn't hear the sharp intake of breath, or notice the deep grey eyes roam his clenching hand and his flushed face, too busy with his own wayward thoughts.

"Better?" Tom asked huskily, on one knee in front of Harry.

"Yes," Harry croaked, grateful he couldn't possibly flush any deeper. "Thanks."

"We should make quite sure you're properly cooled down," Tom said enigmatically, swishing what little tea was left until the ice cubes in the bottom clinked, and then took a deep gulp of his own straight from the carafe. Smirking at Harry's confused expression when it became clear he hadn't swallowed, he leaned in to cover the soft, spice-sensitised lips.

Harry gasped, and the moment his mouth opened, a flood of cool tea rushed in. His first instinct was to splutter and choke, but a slender hand lay against his throat, and he became aware of the single ice cube swirling around his tongue. And he relaxed, swallowing slowly until all the tea had slid down his throat and the ice cube was little more than a sliver resting on his tongue, slowly melting in the heat of another tongue caressing his scorched mouth from the inside, stroking the soft tissues soothingly. The heat which spread from his mouth outward had nothing to do with the spicy food.

When Tom drew back so they could both gasp in a breath, they stared at each other, flushed and breathing hard.

"That's no way to put out a fire," Harry said huskily.

Tom's eyes were dark and glittering. "Why would I want to put it out?" He gently nudged Harry's left thigh to the side, parting his legs far enough so he could lean into him and press him back into the ample cushions with his weight.

Harry was panting, and with a determined pull on Tom's lapels, Harry dragged him down until they were kissing again, even more hungrily than before. But it wasn't enough, and Harry began to fumble between them, sliding his hands under cool, loose silk to stroke even silkier skin.

Tom was trembling when Harry's fingertips grazed the hard points of his bare chest, and without disrupting Harry's exploration of him, he held down Harry's hip with one hand, using the other to brush strands of hair back from Harry's face.

"I want to taste you," Harry whispered against Tom's lips.

Tom whimpered his agreement, tugging both their tunics up and off as quickly as he could, surprised when Harry dipped his head and began to press kisses to his chest and stomach - hurried pecks as if he was afraid he'd be stopped at any moment. "Harry," he sighed, gathering him close to slow the frantic assault on his senses, but Harry's lips kept nipping and caressing every inch of skin he could reach, and Tom was forced to capitulate.

Harry's hands were at his trousers, hastily slipping the single button free and pushing them halfway down slim hips, before he knelt in front of Tom and gave him a push until he fell back into a mountain of pillows.

"Merlin, yes!" Tom gasped, arching his back when Harry gripped his hips and lowered his head to lick at the tip of his cock, catching the first drop on his tongue with a sigh of pleasure. "Oh, Harry."

Harry smirked as he cradled the shaft and engulfed the head in his mouth. He slid down the smooth hardness until his lips just touched his fingers at the base. The guttural moan Tom could not suppress made his own cock twitch, and when long fingers twisted in his hair and held his head in place, he felt the first drops welling from himself. Resisting the temptation to slide his hand into his trousers, he concentrated on pleasuring Tom instead, sucking hard while teasing him with his tongue on each upwards lick. He let his fingers trail down, squeezing Tom's balls one at a time, and when he had Tom completely incapable of more than groans and gasps, he pulled away with a long, slow suck, only to find Tom blinking at him from unfocussed eyes.

"Don't stop, Harry, please."

Harry smirked with great satisfaction, sliding two fingers into his mouth and sucking them noisily without breaking eye contact, and when he lowered his mouth to lick at the seeping head of Tom's cock over and over with quick flickers of his tongue, he moved his fingers down and slipped them through the tight barrier of Tom's hole without hesitation.

Tom growled and began to spurt his release within moments; the first drops landed on Harry's cheek, and he sucked the twitching organ back into his mouth quickly, moaning when it filled him with Tom's bittersweet essence. Tom was shaking hard, his sweaty fingers sliding from Harry's hair to fall limply at his side. When he finally recovered enough to draw Harry up into his arms, he murmured something in Arabic that sounded like "Habibi".

"I made you lose control first," Harry stated with a smug smile.

Tom blinked at him, still breathless, then laughed softly. "Harry, I lost control the moment you landed at my feet like a gift from the gods."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh."

Suddenly, there was a lot of commotion outside, and they heard Faruq's voice at the tent's entrance.

Tom called out something to him, pulling his trousers up over his hips but otherwise making no move to retrieve either of their tops.

Faruq entered hesitantly and bowed, before starting a barrage in Arabic, but Tom immediately silenced him with, "In English!"

Faruq nodded and smiled at Harry, and began again, "The cobra, my Lord. We have not seen him all day, but one of the guards went to check on the pyramid only now, and found him inside the outer chamber, hissing at the cursed seal. Of course, he cannot know the correct spells, but perhaps--"

"What? How do you know it's a he, and--" Harry started.

"Faruq is a Parselmouth as well, Harry," Tom explained. His eyes lit up. "Merlin! You don't think... could it be?"

Harry blinked at him, catching on. "Let's go and see." He scrambled to his feet, wincing when he was made painfully aware of his unsatisfied state. But he knew Tom would be in a hurry to find out if what they both thought was true.

There was a sigh of regret as Tom rose to follow him, handing him his tunic while slipping on his own.

* * *

The closer they got to the pyramid entrance, the more excitement Harry felt about the possibility of finally breaking the seal.

"Keep the men out here. Only Harry and myself will go in," Tom instructed Faruq.

"Of course, my Lord." Faruq bowed. "Good luck."

"Thanks." Harry took Tom's hand. "Come on." He got the distinct feeling he was more eager than Tom, but told himself he had to be mistaken. They hurried down the steps into the outer chamber and approached the sealed door. The cobra was hissing frantically and ineffectively at it to open up. Harry chuckled.

"I suppose it's no wonder he's interested. There are enough snake images on these walls--" Harry stopped there, groaned, and smacked his own forehead, but glared when Tom started laughing. "I _might_ have made a connection, had I not been constantly distracted by my outrageously sexy client."

Tom smiled sweetly at him, then told the snake to leave and let Harry work on the seal, as he was an expert, and the cobra dipped its head obediently and slithered away. He picked up the lantern always kept lit in the chamber and held it up to the seal. "Is this enough light?" he asked.

"Yes." Harry knelt at the door and, without even remembering his wand in his excitement, hissed every anti-curse spell he knew at it, this time in Parseltongue. Ten minutes went by that way, and then, with a whisper of magic, the ancient seal disintegrated before their eyes and the heavy door creaked open a few inches.

Harry gasped. "It's open!" He broke into a grin. "It's open." Laughing, he ran his fingertips along the edge of the door. "It's right here for you, Tom - what you've wanted more than anything." When Tom didn't speak, he looked up again, and found grey eyes - smiling and happy - on him. "Isn't it?" he asked uncertainly.

Tom took his hands and pulled him to his feet. "Thank you," he said huskily. And then he kissed him. Hard.

Harry just had time to raise his arms and wrap them around Tom's neck, before he was pushed against the chamber door.

Tom thrust his tongue into his mouth while rucking up Harry's tunic impatiently. He pulled the silk over Harry's head and off, before his lips returned. This time, they scorched Harry's neck, his tongue licking a trail of fire down towards the pulse point at the base, where he lingered, flicking wetly against it while tearing open Harry's trousers and pushing his hand inside.

Harry groaned when Tom's right hand wrapped around him and started stroking - fast, hurried strokes that were neither gentle nor perfectly placed. But his knees grew weak, and his breath stuttered to a halt in his lungs when Tom's left hand cupped his nape and his mouth fastened on his shoulder, licking and biting while his right hand increased its pace. "God, yes!" Harry growled and reached for Tom's hips, pulling him close, hissing when silk brushed his sensitive groin.

Tom didn't even pause, his mouth back on Harry's neck, his left hand stroking across his chest, teasing a nipple in passing, then tangling in Harry's hair while he once more covered his mouth and devoured it.

Harry's tongue countered the assault on equal terms, his hands squeezing Tom's arse, holding him close. When he felt the first wave of liquid heat rushing up his cock, he pushed at Tom's shirt, needing to feel bare skin, and with a gasp of pure pleasure into Tom's open mouth, he came, splattering both their bared stomachs and Tom's hand.

Tom grunted like a wild thing. And while Harry was still twitching and spurting in his hand, he found himself lowered to the ground with seemingly no effort at all. There, Tom let go only long enough to tear off his own shirt and push it under Harry for a modicum of protection against the fine sand, before pulling both pairs of silk trousers down well past their hips.

"Tom, I thought... don't you want..." Harry breathed, glancing at the teasingly ajar chamber door, his fingers digging into the sand when his eyes met Tom's once more.

"Oh yes, I _want_ ," Tom growled, his eyes burning into Harry's. "I want very much. Do you?"

Harry licked his lips. "Yes," he gasped.

Tom was fumbling in the hidden pocket of his trousers until he found his wand and, leaning over Harry supported on one hand, brought the wand down between them and slipped it ever so gently into Harry's hole, whispering a spell to slick it generously.

Harry's mouth dropped open, a needy moan escaping him while Tom prepared him gently but hurriedly, the wand replaced by long fingers sliding into him slickly and stretching him with careful, scissoring motions until he clenched around the intruders and gasped, "I'm ready, Tom. So ready. _Please!_ "

Biting his lips in concentration and trying not to come, Tom removed Harry's trousers altogether, then bent the bare legs close to Harry's chest and pushed himself inside.

Curses spilled from Harry's mouth, and once, Tom might have mocked the appropriateness of it, but he was too busy thrusting into him in ever lengthening strokes, until he finally slid all the way in, his thighs trembling with effort when they came to rest flush against Harry's buttocks.

"Fuck," Harry breathed. "Tom, fuck me!" He stared up at him out of eyes glinting in the semi-darkness. "Hard!"

Tom pulled almost all the way out, his lower lip between his teeth and his eyes narrowed, and then rammed back in, and when Harry groaned and arched his back, he did it again. And again.

"Yes! Yes, oh God, yes. Ah!" Harry grunted, his cock already hard again, pressed against his stomach, drops welling from its tip with every thrust of Tom's cock into his arse.

"Harry." Tom angled Harry's hips, flattened his thrusts, and when Harry howled with pleasure, he closed his eyes and came with a cry, pumping into Harry for as long as he could, kissing his heated cheeks while the aftershocks lasted.

When he finally pulled out, dripping on Harry's thighs and his own tunic underneath him, he lowered Harry's legs so he could stretch out alongside him. Then he took Harry's cock in his hand and leaned over him, taking him deep into his throat. He only managed two slow, deep sucks, and Harry was coming for a second time, gazing at him with his lips parted, panting hard.

Tom purred in satisfaction and, brushing Harry's sweaty bangs of hair back, leaned over him to kiss him. It was the gentlest kiss they had shared yet.

"You demon," Harry finally breathed, then laughed huskily. "I can't believe you fucked me in front of a priest's burial chamber!"

Tom smirked, his fingers still smoothing back damp hair. "Perfectly appropriate, considering I worship you."

Harry's eyes widened on meeting Tom's. "Need I remind you that you're supposed to be a selfish prat?" he asked, horrified that his voice cracked with emotion.

"I am," Tom said. "Which is why I intend to keep you all for myself." He stroked Harry's cheek and smiled at him softly. "Forever, my little snake-lion. Ana uhibbuk." The tenderness in his eyes and his voice required no phrase book.

Harry smiled back happily, turning his lips into Tom's palm to kiss it, before meeting his eyes again. "I love you too, Tom."

* * *

They did enter the chamber before the night was out, and inside, they found the second-most valuable thing in their lives.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

>  _Kismet = fate, destiny  
>  Insha'allah = God willing  
> Habibi - My Darling_


End file.
